Scarred by guilt
by Chaos in the Moonlight
Summary: Alexander has fears that he can't share with the man of his heart. Will he let these fears tear Hephaistion from his arms, or can he manage to confide in his love before he is consumed by them?
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Scarred by guilt, Part 1  
**Pairing**: Alexander/Hephaistion  
**Rating**: R  
**Warning**: m/m slash, angst  
**Beta**: the lovely Myr  
**Feedback**: Always appreciated  
**A/N**: Written for the Alexander Alphabet Challenge, and is related to a drabble I did a while back (just in case it seems familiar) As usual, my writing falls to the emotional side rather than the historical, since I claim to know nothing about actual history. Hope you enjoy anyways.

xxxxx

"To whom do you pray?"

Alexander didn't need to turn around to see the owner of the voice - the voice that always made his heart light up, beat faster and grow stronger. "Phobos."

"Fear? And what is it you fear most, Alexander?"

The King sighed deeply, his eyes not leaving the full moon that lit up the night sky. He'd avoided Hephaistion all evening, deserting the dining tent before his beloved companion would notice. He wished his thoughts were as clear as the cool night air and unfaltering moon above him. What did he fear most? Was it whether he would be able to lead his men to victory in what he knew would be a bloody battle? Or perhaps, being unable to prove his worth as the true warrior that he still considered himself to be, and that which was expected of him?

Going into battle provided a fearful anticipation all on its own, even without the added responsibilities of having and entire army depending on his decisions and capabilities. As king, Alexander had to be aware of what was going on at all times, had to be strong and unaffected by emotions no matter how chaotically rampant that they ran through his body, attacking his mind, and sending his heart soaring with anxiety.

"It is not fear, Hephaistion, just the same nervousness that I feel before any battle. You should know that by now, my friend."

Hephaistion shifted his weight from one foot to the other, moving his body so he stood before Alexander, his own eyes narrowing as the king's face remaining lifted to the brightness of the moon. Alexander saw Hephaistion's movement from the corner of his eye, saw him but didn't dare look directly at him or meet his icy blue gaze. He was positive Hephaistion would know what was really going on inside his head and heart with one simple look into his troubled eyes. Hephaistion could always identify what was happening inside Alexander, inside his brain, his heart and his soul, and the King did not want that being the case when his thoughts were so chaotic and troubling.

"Fear is not something to be ashamed of."

It took all of Alexander's remaining resolve to continue his charade. "As I already stated, I have no fear in my heart at this moment, Hephaistion. I am simply running the strategies and plans of tomorrow's battle through my head."

Hephaistion cocked his head, eyes squinted at his friend. "But you did say you were praying." Why was it that Hephaistion was the only one to ever see through Alexander's facade, the only one who ever dared see into his heart and soul, the only one brave enough to always question him?

Alexander was afraid, but in no way because of his responsibilities as king, nor his capability to lead his men and prove himself. He cared not for any of that at the moment, for his mind centered on only one thing in his life.

He continued to watch from the corner of his eye as Hephaistion turned his back to him, raising his eyes to the moon above, and wrapping his cloak tighter around his body.

"I have a strong belief that prayer is good for the soul, Alexander, but I believe fear is, as well. We cannot have a truly accurate view of the world around us and the things we have yet to face, without allowing fear to move our hearts and minds. Did Aristotle not always tell us that fear should be accepted into our souls so we could face it head on? Fear is a feeling that makes us strive to be better, and I believe we are better men because we allow fear to awaken all our senses and push us forward."

If Hephaistion only knew how much fear Alexander truly had in his heart, how it ripped his very soul apart. But it wasn't fear of losing a battle or losing his dignity and position. Alexander's true apprehensions and discomforts, the ones that had followed him from the moment he met Hephaistion, revolved solely around losing the man he loved. Alexander's most consuming fear was not for himself, his men or his kingdom, but for the best part of his life; the man who was anchored in his heart, the one whose very existence made Alexander stronger and more capable in everything he did.

"I have fears, Alexander, and there are times when they are truly abundant and overwhelming," Hephaistion continued. "Do you believe that makes me a weak man?"

Alexander shook his head, finally drawing his eyes down from the sky to the familiar form before him. He wanted to grab Hephaistion, wanted to drag him into his tent and hold him, be held by him, love him. But he knew that was not to be ... because of his own preoccupation and _fear_.

Hephaistion turned then, brilliant blue eyes wrinkled with concern meeting wide brown eyes that held an important secret. A small nervous smile turned up the corners of Hephaistion's mouth. "Do you? Believe me weak?"

"No," Alexander managed to say, the words barely recognizable as they snuck out from between dry lips and a throat parched with nervousness. "I have never considered anything even remotely in that vein of thought, Phai."

Alexander hoped Hephaistion never found out the extent that he worried about his love not returning from battle, how he stayed awake the night before each confrontation, tossing fitfully through frantic dreams, his mind not allowing him one moment of rest. It was one of the reasons he had never allowed himself to hold Hephaistion in his arms on the eve of battle, he just couldn't bear the man he loved to see his fears and insecurities, and the last thing he wanted was for Hephaistion to worry about him.

"On the eve of battle, it's hardest to be alone," Hephaistion said, reading Alexander's mind again, as the king felt his heart crack down the middle. "I understand it is a warrior's code, but that does not stop me from feeling the loneliness and worry that every night will be our last together."

Alexander could do nothing but stare at the beautiful man, his heart full and aching with love. It was like Hephaistion had read his thoughts, just like he always seemed to be able to do, delving into his very soul and exposing it raw, as he took Alexander's fears as his own. It was beautiful and heart-warming and totally what Alexander did not want to happen.

He _needed_ to keep his insecurities to himself, _needed_ to allay Hephaistion's worries and not let him ruminate about Alexander's fears. He knew Hephaistion would drop everything to help him, to make him more comfortable, to lay down his life for him with nary a thought. But Alexander wanted his beloved to go into battle the next morning with only the fight on his mind.

xxxxx

Hephaistion was worried, but not because Alexander had sent him away. He was used to that; the staunch superstitions of battle. He was worried because Alexander was just not himself, hadn't been himself for days it seemed, his whole demeanor one of detachment and isolation. His usually bright, curious eyes had been replaced with a lackluster hue and darkness that flooded his irises and the skin surrounding them, both clear signs that Hephaistion's love had not been sleeping well. The king's shorter fuse and quickening impatience with Hephaistion and the men were also clear indications of Alexander's discomfort.

Truth be told, Hephaistion felt Alexander had been shutting him out completely as of late, the stress and worry apparent in his body and actions, but with no invitations to share the burden. That was unusual in their relationship. Hephaistion had always been the one Alexander came to when he needed to relax and rebuild his thoughts, in both a mental and physical way.

And if Hephaistion was truly honest with himself, the decline in their physical relationship was also worrying to him. They had not made love in a couple of weeks. In fact, they had not been at all intimate in their dealings, and though Hephaistion never made any claim to Alexander's body or his personal encounters, he still believed he was first in his heart. Alexander always seemed to find solace and rejuvenation in Hephaistion's body and arms and heart, and that he had not been doing so, was of great concern.

As he walked further away from Alexander's tent, Hephaistion struggled to not turn back. His entire body and soul longed to hold Alexander, to feel the warm glow of his beloved remove all the insecurities he was feeling, but he knew it wasn't Alexander's duty to do so. Hephaistion didn't wish to cast any extra shadows of worry on his love, especially being that he already seemed lost in the darkness of his own cloud.

Since returning to Alexander was not a tangible or intelligent option in Hephaistion's mind and he didn't want to go back to his tent, he wrapped his cloak tighter around himself and sat down on the ridge. Pulling his knees into his chest, he hugged them close and let his eyes drift to the clear evening sky where the moon and stars glowed above him. He closed his eyes briefly, feeling his romantic soul ache with the beauty of the night, a night he yearned to share with his love, a night he feared would be his last with Alexander. And though his mind did not cast any specific shadows, his jumbled thoughts of the past few days not clearly showing him what the darkness of his fears meant, he worried not for himself, but for Alexander.

Alexander. He was truly the first thing Hephaistion thought about in the morning and the last thing he thought about before closing his eyes to welcome Hypnos. There were even times when he chastised himself for acting like a love-sick woman because his thoughts strayed to the one in his heart so often. But in all honesty, he didn't mind when that part of himself showed through, the part of him that wished only to be by Alexander's side every moment of the day. The icy facade he'd always prided himself on maintaining in front of others was a hard burden to bear some days, and when he allowed himself to truly open up and be honest with himself, he was a much happier man.

Wrapping his cloak tighter still around his shivering body, Hephaistion lay back and closed his eyes. He had no plans of falling asleep, only of retreating from the tiredness of the day for a moment before returning to the empty loneliness of his tent for the night. As it turned out, he awoke as the sun peeked out from the horizon, chastising himself yet again for giving in to the weakness of his body and the longing in his heart.

xxxxx

Alexander didn't want to shut Hephaistion out, didn't want to see the partially disguised hurt that illuminated his sparkling blue eyes, and it was very seldom in their history that he had ever done so. He couldn't actually remember the last time he'd kept anything from his beloved, except perhaps when he first discovered his true feelings for his friend; a time that was edged firmly in his memory as one of the best time and the worst.

As he lay on his cot, his mind rumbling and rolling along with his body, he couldn't even remember the remainder of the conversation he'd had with Hephaistion that evening, only that he had sent him away despite his longing to do the complete opposite. Rising from his bed, he swiped the sweat from his brow and crossed to the entrance of his tent. He could feel the cool night air and it felt good on the warmth of his damp skin. He had to calm down, had to rid himself of the fears that had risen to massive proportions since he'd closed his eyes to sleep, his nerves flailing helplessly under his skin.

He always worried about the battles that lay ahead, always worried about sending the man he loved into uncertain situations, but this time was different and so much worse. His mind would not let him focus on anything else, despite all he'd practiced over the years, and believed that he'd mastered.

The disorder of his mind even made him question Hephaistion's assignment for the next day. He trusted Hephaistion to fight for him until the last breath left his body, trusted him to protect his men, trusted him to lead the most elite of his bodyguards, but in doing so, had he also put the man he loved in even more danger?

He'd been having dreams for over a week, dreams of Hephaistion dying a horrible, torturous death, premonitions of losing the man he'd lay down his very life to protect; the images harsh and vivid and raw. Seeing Hephaistion everyday had not allayed his fears, either, only made Alexander more worried and more inclined to do something he swore to Hephaistion that he would never do; treat him differently than any of the other men. What he really wanted to do was order Hephaistion to remain in camp the next day, to shelter him from the horrible fate that Alexander truly believed would befall him.

Flopping back down on his bed, he struggled with himself to not leave his tent, to not go find Hephaistion. It was something he just could not allow himself to do. Hephaistion would know something was amiss, would read his thoughts as he always did, and that would just make the situation worse for both of them. So he just lay there, staring up into the darkness, listening to the quiet sounds of the night, his heart aching, and his mind churning with confusion, fear and regret


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Alexander was saddened and distraught as he viewed the horrific carnage that surrounded him, his mind struggling to focus on the destruction, but involuntarily moving to Hephaistion and his well-being. He'd lost sight of his lover half-way through the battle when his section had split off from Alexander's, then during the course of the confrontation, he hadn't had time to dwell on his premonition of Hephaistion's fate. That perhaps was a good thing in itself, at least until the battle was over when his brain suddenly crashed with overwhelming worry and fear.

Hephaistion was a strong and capable warrior. He'd always been a strong man, even before they'd become soldiers. He'd always stood up for himself, handled himself with decorum and strength when needed. Being the best friend of the Prince, then the King - not to mention the disrespect shown to him when some of their friends had realized that they were more than friends - had always made Hephaistion an easy target for disdain and bullying, but he'd always handled himself well.

Unfortunately, the heated seriousness of battle was a different thing altogether than handling the jealousy and envy of men, since almighty war had no limitations or preferences. Throughout the day, Alexander had repeated that Hephaistion would be fine over and over in his head. He would come back to him with nary a scratch, thus abolishing tormenting visions Alexander had been having. The dreams had been nothing more than an unaccustomed smattering of nerves that had accumulated in Alexander's head, manifesting themselves in the worst way possible.

As he bent to lay a hand over the blood-soaked chest of one of his men, Alexander lifted his head to the sky, mind wrought and aching as the realization of the destruction around him sunk in. Where, by the gods, was Hephaistion?

xxxxx

A hand on his shoulder brought Alexander's mind back to the situation at hand. "Hephai ...", he began, looking up into the familiar face, not the face he'd been hoping for, but Ptolemy's.

"Are you alright, Alexander?" the tall man asked. "You've been squatted over this youngster for some time now. Are you injured?"

"No," Alexander replied quickly, rising to his feet, his thighs aching from the position, not to mention the extreme circumstances of the day. "I'm well. And you, my friend?"

"Just tired and parched for some wine to end this day."

"And the rest of our ... friends?" Alexander's voice was low and strained, whether due to the actual battle or his reluctance to ask Ptolemy what he really wanted to know, was unclear even to him.

"Hephaistion is well. He was injured, but the doctor has already seen to him."

"Injured?" Alexander felt his heart and stomach jump up into his throat, gagging silently on the bile that had suddenly appeared on his tongue. "What injury has he sustained?"

Ptolemy placed a strong arm around Alexander's shoulders, fingers securing his hold. He lead Alexander away from the fallen body of the man. "Come, Alexander. You must be parched, as well. Let's get you some water, then find our beloved friend."

Alexander let himself be lead, his mind spinning with Ptolemy's words. Injured, but well. What exactly did that mean and why was Ptolemy being so secretive? "Where is he?"

"You know Hephaistion better than all of us, Alexander. We forced him to see the doctor, and after being trussed up, he slipped away to see to his men."

"Stubborn ..."

"Just like someone else I know," Ptolemy smirked.

xxxxx

Alexander insisted they check Hephaistion's tent first. He hoped his beloved had the intelligence to return there after seeing the physician, and had not run about checking on his men when he, himself, was injured. Alas, Hephaistion wasn't there when they arrived. Alexander cursed softly under his breath; in his heart he'd known his lover always thought more of others than he did himself, but at that moment, he secretly wished that was not the case at all.

"Alexander?" Ptolemy's voice cleared yet another cloud of worry and inattention from Alexander's mind. "You look much too pale, my friend. Why don't we go back to your tent before we find Hephaistion? You don't want to worry him by looking unwell when he first sees you."

Alexander ignored his friend's suggestion, pushing past Ptolemy, his eyes immediately searching the outside perimeter of the tent. His heart pounded hard against his ribs, his palms and brow becoming increasingly damp, his face hot and tight. Ptolemy had said Hephaistion's injury was not life-threatening, that he had already been examined by the physician, but that didn't ease Alexander's mind. His dreams were still too vividly encased in his head; the blood, destruction and death now completely synonymous with his beloved, at least until he saw him with his own eyes.

Truth be told, he was still terrified that Ptolemy and the doctor had underestimated the extent of Hephaistion's injuries, and he feared he would find his love dead on the ground from the inattention to his wounds. He needed to see Hephaistion himself, needed to inspect him from head to toe, needed to know his dreams were simply that, dreams.

"Where is he?" Alexander growled as Ptolemy stepped up beside him. "Why is he not in his tent? Why did you not escort him to his tent, Ptolemy? You should have made him remain there! His injury could be worse than ..."

"Alexander!" Ptolemy interrupted the King. "You know Hephaistion as well as the rest of us ... better than the rest of us, if I may be so bold. Why would you believe he would stay in his tent when there are things to be done, and men he feels a responsibility to?"

"Things and men? You said he suffered a serious injury, so why, by the gods, would he be out running around?"

"Because he is Hephaistion," Ptolemy said softer this time. "But rather than stand here and debate his character, should we not simply go find him so he can belay your fears himself."

"I am not afraid," Alexander snapped. "I just ..."

"Come, my friend, let us find the one you seek."

xxxxx

After passing several of the larger tents, as well as the dining hall, Alexander finally spotted his beloved among a cluster of men. Seeing Hephaistion standing straight and tall allowed Alexander's heart to escape his throat, and sink back into its rightful position, his tongue feeling instantly less swollen and coarse.

Hephaistion stood in the center of a large group of his men, his back to Alexander, hair partially braided, but more so tangled and streaming down his back. A stark, white bandage encircled his head, but from the distance Alexander could not make out exactly what it covered.

He quickened his pace, watching as Hephaistion laid a hand on the shoulder of one of the men, his other hand trailing up to touch his head. He seemed to wobble to the side, righting himself quickly, then shaking his head slightly while another of the men grasped his arm.

"Hephaistion!" Alexander called out, the acceleration of his feet becoming more of a trot as he closed the gap between the men and himself. "Hephaistion!"

In any other circumstance, Alexander would not have allowed such emotion to pepper his voice or his demeanor. He would have focused on not having concern and fear edge their way into his words. He'd practiced that very skill; the skill of not bringing unwanted attention to Hephaistion which was something he'd been lectured about many times by his lover. But this was not a normal situation, and Alexander knew it was only his overwhelming respect for Hephaistion that kept him from sprinting the rest of the distance, and crushing the man in his arms.

When he was no more than a few feet away, Hephaistion finally turned to face him, a surprised smile captured on his lips. He looked as relieved as Alexander felt, at least until he saw the bandage that covered the entire left side of his lover's face.

Alexander was suddenly woozy, his eyes wavering as his knees threatened to crumble. It was all he could do to remain upright, to keep his feet planted firmly on the ground, as he stared at Hephaistion.

"Alexander?" his beloved said softly, gently, as he shrugged off the hand on his shoulder and took a step towards the king. "Are you well, my King?"

"You were injured ... your face ... it's ..." was all Alexander could manage, his own face masking none of the shock and discomfort that rocked his insides as he continued to stare.

Hephaistion's mouth turned down in a dismayed frown, his one visible eye narrowed and dark. "I've seen the physician, and he assured me that I would be fine."

Ptolemy had finally reached the two men, sliding to Alexander's side and placing a hand on the small of his back. "You look as if you're a tad dizzy, Hephaistion."

"I was for a moment," Hephaistion offered, gaze not leaving Alexander's face. "But I'm fine now. Alexander, are you alright? You seem pale. Were you injured?"

Alexander shook his head silently. The stark whiteness of the bandage was almost blinding to his eyes as it reflected over and over in his mind. He had no words, no words at all. Why had Ptolemy not warned him of the extent of Hephaistion's injuries? His face. What had happened to his beautiful face?

"Alexander?" Hephaistion was speaking to him, again, but Alexander just could not focus, could not see anything except the overwhelming brightness of the red-tinged bindings that covered half of Hephaistion's face.

"Ptolemy," the King suddenly blurted out. "Things seem to be in order here, we should carry on with our rounds. Please get some rest, men."

Alexander could feel Hephaistion's uncovered eye following him as he turned and walked away, Ptolemy close at his heels. "Alexander!" the man hissed. "Whatever are you thinking? You did not even wish Hephaistion good tidings."

"He knows. I do not have to say it. We have much to do. Do you wish to complain the whole time or accompany me on my rounds?" Alexander's voice was cold and harsh, sending a wave of confusion and frustration throughout Ptolemy's body.

xxxxx

Hephaistion stood rooted to the spot, one hand involuntarily moving to touch the bandage that wrapped around his head. His mind twisted with confusion. Alexander had called out to him, had come within a few feet of him, then recoiled in disgust at the mere sight of his face. It wasn't something Hephaistion expected from the man of his heart. It wasn't something he understood, either.

Alexander had seemed positively rattled when he'd appeared, the stress and concern in his voice almost palpable, as he called Hephaistion's name, but then what had happened? He'd taken one look at the man he sought, and rather than looking relieved, he'd look mortified and revolted. Then to make matters worse, he'd dismissed Hephaistion without a word.

Hephaistion was acutely aware of the men around him staring. He neither wanted or needed to be the target of any further humiliation so after letting Alexander's figure drift into the distance, he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and turned back to the group. "I believe I am still a little light-headed from my injury. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll return to my tent. Please have someone come get me should my presence be required."

He smiled gently, the grin fading immediately as he turned and walked in the direction of his tent, aware of the eyes following him and the whispering voices that immediately filled the air. He was used to that, used to the snickers and jabs he was constantly subjected to whenever he and Alexander were seen together. What he wasn't used to was the overwhelming sadness that suddenly struck him, making him feel ultimately and completely alone.

xxxxx

Alexander just wanted to be alone, alone with the thoughts that pitched back and forth in his head, like a ship lost in a storm. His heart had skipped a beat when he finally saw Hephaistion, then skipped another when the sight of his injury was finally realized. He was upset that Ptolemy hadn't warned him of the wound to Hephaistion's face before they came upon him, and then to make matters even worse, Ptolemy had badgered him relentlessly after they carried on with their rounds.

He understood Ptolemy's concerns and his questions, but he did not want to talk about anything just then. He needed to keep up appearances, needed to see his men, then sneak away for some time to himself; to regroup, get himself together, process what had just happened.

He knew the shock of the situation had registered clearly on his face, and though it had not been his intention to remove himself from Hephaistion so suddenly, he knew that's exactly what he had done. And he knew Hephaistion had been both confused and hurt by the impulsive dismissal.

Yes, he had been thrown aback at first, but then it had not been so much about what he'd actually seen, but rather what could have happened to result in such an injury to Hephaistion's face. As he wound his way around camp, mourning the losses and supporting the injured, he did not feel he was himself. He felt like his body was floating somewhere above in a haze of anxiety and helplessness. It was as if everything he was seeing and hearing was not as clear as it should have been. He heard himself speak, but did not feel the words leave his lips.

He attributed it to shock and surprise, not to mention the exhaustion that riddled his mind and body from days of being unable to sleep, but that didn't help him to dismiss the feelings of utter and complete chaos that wavered about in his mind. It was almost as if he had imbibed in some very powerful unwatered wine, and didn't even realize he'd taken a drink.

When he was finally able to return to his tent, his uncoordinated feet stumbling more than once along the way, he sent everyone away. He made it clear that he did want to be not be disturbed, something that was very rare for him following any battle. He generally liked to be with his men during these times; listening, supporting, taking in all the left-over energy that often accompanied the end of hard-fought day.

But tonight he wanted to be alone. He needed to be alone. He needed to assimilate all the notions that battered against one another, turning his mind to a useless ball of indistinguishable mush. He needed to rationalize his thoughts, clearly, coherently, logically. Seeing Hephaistion should have brought everything full circle, brought all Alexander's fears to an end, at least for the time being, but instead, his mind reeled with inconsequential what ifs and incessant ramblings of failing to protect the one most important in his life.

Hephaistion was not critically injured, but damned if Alexander couldn't stop thinking that he could have been.

xxxxx

As the sun set on a day filled with violence, loss and chaos, Hephaistion sat alone in his tent, his eyes unfocused and unknowing as the brightness faded and left him in darkness. His head ached and despite the physician's orders to return if he developed any other symptoms to his injury, he welcomed the discomfort since it was a partial distraction from the overwhelming pain in his heart. The doctor could perhaps lessen the throbbing pain in his head, but he wouldn't make the latter dissipate in the least, so Hephaistion saw no point in summoning him.

Alexander's reaction confused and disturbed Hephaistion, the emotional part of him wanting to confront his lover, but the logical one forcing him to maintain his decorum. Alexander's attitude had made it clear that it was not Hephaistion's place to run after the king, to demand an explanation. Experience had taught had also taught him that if Alexander had something more to say, he would have said it without encouragement or provocation.

Did he truly look that bad? Was his face mangled to a degree that could make the one person in his life who claimed to love him unconditionally, turn away in fright? And even if he did, how could Alexander's reaction have been so fierce, knowing the true nature of battle? The king had seen men maimed, destroyed, dying, yet one look at Hephaistion's bandaged face had sent him running off in total disgust. Hephaistion did not understand what was going through Alexander's mind, did not understand the look of almost terror that had crossed his face the moment he looked at him.

Their relationship was not one based on the simplicity of physical attraction, never had been, and Hephaistion had sincerely believed it never would be. They'd fallen in love as mere adolescents, but that had never been the basis of their love, or so Hephaistion had thought. They'd both changed over the years, matured, gone from naive innocents to men responsible for changing the history of the world, men who made important decisions and fought to make them happen.

They understood each other, they stood by each other, they hungered for and loved each other, so why was Hephaistion sitting alone, half-drunk on unwatered wine, at the end of a day which had almost been his last?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hephaistion jumped up from his cot, struggling with the sheets that had wrapped themselves around him in his sleep. Reaching the chamber pot in the corner just in time to empty the contents of his rolling stomach, he continued to heave even after there was only bile left to bring up. His hair hung in ropes around his face, his throat burning and face aching. He didn't know whether to blame the sword that had struck him, or the empty wine bottle that lay on its side beside the bed, for the massive aches and pains he was feeling.

Limping his way back to his cot, he dropped heavily down. The sheets were still sweat-damp, a result of his restless slumber, but he didn't care enough to even try to arrange them so the moisture didn't lay against his hot skin. His night had been fitful to say the least, his body tossing and turning, much worse when he rolled to his left side and the pillow touched the bandage on his face.

He was tired and sore to the point of delirium, even have awakened in the middle of the night and imagining a figure huddled beside his bed; a figure that very much resembled Alexander. He'd tried to focus, tried to clear his bleary eyes, and pull himself up to get a better look, but had quickly passed out again, his mind assuring him he was mistaken. If Alexander had ventured out to see him, surely he would have woken him up.

xxxxx

Alexander awoke at his desk, his head resting on the pile of papers he'd been trying to focus on before he lost his fight with Hypnos. It was barely dawn, the sun only casting a warm, orange hue over his tent as he rose and stretched his tired, aching frame. He didn't know how long he'd slept, but it couldn't have been long since he'd spent most of the night huddled against the inside wall of Hephaistion's tent. He hadn't been able to stay away, but at the same time, he still hadn't had the words to explain his behavior, let alone apologize for something that had clearly hurt Hephaistion.

His beloved hadn't slept much, either, his bed a cacophony of moans and groans accompanied by the squirming and writhing of his body. He'd actually cried out in pain several times, the sound breaking Alexander's heart into even smaller pieces. During one such outburst, Hephaistion seemed to look straight into Alexander's eyes, causing him to do some squirming of his own as he tried to sink deeper into the ground on which he sat. It had only been the dimness of the tent and the distortedness of Hephaistion's vision that had saved him as his beloved succumbed once again to his uncomfortable doze.

Alexander had been greatly challenged to not slip under the blankets with Hephaistion, to not slide an arm beneath his shoulders and drag him into his arms. He wanted to hold him, yearned to feel the strength of his strong body cradled against him, longed to stroke the long hair from his face and try to sweep away the pain of the day. He wanted to kiss the ravages of battle from Hephaistion's memory, to take away the wounds that kept him awake and churning in his bed. If he could have taken Hephaistion's injury upon himself, he wouldn't have hesitated for a moment.

It had taken everything he had inside him to not rush to Hephaistion's side when he struggled to the chamber pot in the corner, every fiber of Alexander's being calling out for him to hold back Hephaistion's hair, softly rub his back and comfort him as he retched. That's when Alexander had slunk from the tent, his tail firmly planted between his legs, afraid to be caught in the act. He was being a coward and he knew it, but at that moment the alternative was out of the question. Explaining to Hephaistion the reason that Alexander had turned away from him during the day was small compared to the thought of telling him why he was in his tent sneaking away into the darkness.

He had so much to say, but not one thought in his head to help him figure out how to go about doing so.

xxxxx

Ptolemy stuck his head into Hephaistion's tent just as the doctor was changing his dressing. Hephaistion heard him suck in his breath just before a big hand lay gently on his shoulder.

"Seems you were luckier than I realized," Ptolemy's comforting voice said, maintaining a grip on Hephaistion's shoulder, his fingers stroking gently as his friend's body tensed. He tried to keep his face stoic and calm as he leaned over and examined the deep gashes over Hephaistion's eye and on his cheek. He eyed up the doctor suspiciously. "Did ya give him a cup of wine before you started?"

Hephaistion groaned, not so much at the pulling of the doctor's fingers on his face, but at Ptolemy's words. "No wine," he groaned, the mere thought sending waves of nausea up and down his spine. "Have you news, Ptolemy? Or is this a personal visit?"

"Can it not be both?" Ptolemy teased.

Hephaistion covered his friend's hand. "How does it look?"

"I won't lie to you, Hephaisiton, it's not pretty, but you're alive and I've no doubt you'll will heal quickly. Don't worry your head about it, you'll be back to being the prettiest man in the army in no time."

Shooting Ptolemy the nastiest look he could muster, Hephaistion couldn't help smirking at the comical grin on his friend's face. "Being pretty was never one of the highlights of my life, and, to be honest, a change in my looks might make things easier."

"Then I guess I'll have to throw myself on my sword, and volunteer to be the token male that all the lovely ladies can chase after."

Hephaition snorted, thankful for Ptolemy's wit and humor, especially considering his mood was so low. He'd waited all morning for Alexander to show himself, not having the strength to seek him out, and perhaps, being a little wary of doing so. He knew Alexander was busy, knew he was plotting and planning the army's next move, as well as visiting the grieving. He was a good king, a good man, and Hephaistion expected nothing less of him, but it was Hephaistion who usually accompanied him on his rounds, and he couldn't help feeling more than a little upset by yet another slight on Alexander's part.

The physician secured the bandage around Hephaistion's head, again, rising to clear up his things as Hephaistion pushed damp hair from his face. "Do you need anything for the pain, Hephaistion? Or did that empty bottle of wine by your bed do the trick last night?"

With Ptolemy snickering behind him, Hephaistion thanked the doctor and yanked a clean chiton over his head, gasping as the edge caught the top of the bandage. Ptolemy saved him as he struggled with the garment, gently pulling it past the dressing and smoothing it down around his shoulders. "I think you need an assistant to dress you. Perhaps a lovely young thing or a ... loyal king?"

Hephaistion yanked his arm away from Ptolemy, the words cutting him unexpectedly to the core. His friend was the only one truly privy to the relationship that Hephaistion and Alexander shared, the only one they talked openly about it to. Usually, he wasn't bothered when Ptolemy teased, but today was not a usual day. "Do you not have some duties to perform elsewhere, Ptolemy?"

Ptolemy picked up the empty bottle, swinging it between his fingers in Hephaistion's direction. "You never were a man who could bounce back quickly after a night of imbibing."

"I implore you to keep your comments to yourself," Hephaistion hissed, turning his back to his friend and crossing to the entrance of the tent. "How are the men holding up? We lost far too many for it not to have an impact on moral."

"Always thinking about others instead of yourself," Ptolemy returned, joining Hephaistion as he looked out into the brightness of the day. "That's both a noble trait and a character flaw, my friend."

"About those duties, Ptolemy ..."

"Fine. If that's your choice, I'll get on with my task then." Ptolemy paused, his chin dipping down to his chest, feet shuffling slightly as he sought his next words.

Hephaistion noticed the pause and the shuffling, and turned to Ptolemy, cocking his head to the side. "What are you not telling? Has something happened?"

Ptolemy shook his head, then thought better of it and looked up into Hephaistion's jeweled eyes. "Only if you consider our king losing his mind as something of importance."

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"Come away from the door," Ptolemy urged, cupping Hephaistion's elbow and leading him back to the bed. He motioned for Hephaistion to sit down, then settled his body beside him on the edge. "I've orders for you, Hephaistion."

Hephaistion licked his lips, brushing a fallen wave of hair from his eyes. He knew Ptolemy wasn't acting in a normal manner. He wasn't his usually laid-back self and that made Hephaistion suddenly very nervous. "You're bringing me my orders now? Why was I not summoned to receive them myself? What's going on, Ptolemy?"

Huffing out a big sighing breath, Ptolemy shook his head and continued. "That's part of the orders, Hephaistion, that you remain in your tent until you've properly healed."

"What?" Hephaistion's mouth dropped open, his eyes snapping from soft cerulean to deep navy in mere seconds. "I've been confined to my tent because I have an injury? What of the other men that I see limping their way around camp?"

"None of them are as important in the king's eyes, I suppose."

"That's preposterous! Surely he does not intend to keep me hostage in my own tent so no one has to look upon me? His own father was brutally maimed and I do not recall Alexander ever saying he should not be seen."

"Whoa." Ptolemy placed a gentle hand on Hephaistion's shoulder. "I'm not following your way of thought, Hephaistion."

Hephaistion shrugged the hand off, flinging his body up from the bed. He strode quickly to the other end of the tent, then turned and barreled back towards Ptolemy. "Answer me this, Ptolemy. Have I been a fool my entire life or is this some recent affliction that I've come upon?" he seethed, bending until his face was inches from his friend's. "Have I ducked and weaved away from all the petty rumors and ponderings for my whole life, only to now discover that I am simply the pretty face that Alexander takes to his bed? Am I now to be shunned from the inner circle because my beauty does not live up to my reputation any longer? How have I been so wrong in my assumptions that Alexander views me as a worthy companion and not merely a whore to line his bed with?"

Ptolemy rose quickly, grabbing Hephaistion and securing him against his chest. He held tight as his friend's heart beat rapidly against him. "He's worried about you, Hephaistion, and I can assure you that nothing you've just said is true."

"Then why, Ptolemy?" Hephaistion pushed hard against the larger man's chest, shoving him backwards and backing up until his body hit the opposite side of his tent. He felt as if the wine was still coursing through his veins, making his head spin with confusion, making him weak and distraught. "Why is he punishing me for something I had no control over? Why is he rejecting me purely on the basis that I'm no longer unflawed?"

"He's not rejecting you at all. How you look has no bearing on anything that he's feeling. He's scared to death of losing you."

Hephaistion managed a disgruntled snort, letting his body slide down the wall of the tent until his bottom was firmly planted on the ground. He knew he was being overly dramatic, not to mention overly emotional, both traits that did not invade his demeanor often, but at the same time, those were the only things keeping him somewhat sane in his own mind.

"So hiding me away will allow him to hold onto me?" He snorted again, swiping a misty film from his eyes. "Does he plan on making me his General of Correspondence, as well now?"

Ptolemy looked away, but not fast enough that Hephaistion missed the look of guilt that clouded his eyes. "That's his intention?" he hissed, voice wrought with disbelief. He pushed himself from the ground, his bare feet slapping to attention when he was upright. "That's not amusing, Ptolemy," he said softly. "I've not the patience for your teasing ways at the moment."

"I tried to reason with him," Ptolemy whispered, threading his fingers through his mass of curls. "But you know how he is ... stubborn and unmoving when he's made a decision that he feels is right and just."

"Right and just? How can he ... or you ... even think that ... that ... I'd agree to something like that, let alone think it's anything but an absurd notion in its entirety?" Hephaistion moved past his friend, letting himself drop heavily to the edge of the bed, again. "If I'm to be used as nothing more than a mere secretary, then my time with the army appears to be done. I'll not be treated like a helpless female or personal assistant by Alexander or anyone else."

"You were struck in the face, Hephaistion," Ptolemy replied. "Alexander's head is filled with the implications and atrocities that could have arisen because of that. His mind sees you lying dead on the battlefield, your face mangled beyond recognition while the blood and life seeps from your body."

"That's what he told you?" Ptolemy nodded, seating himself on the edge of the bed. "But he never said anything to me about it."

"How could he? He's distraught with guilt over what could have happened. He cannot confide that he fears and dreams that he's sending you to your fated death every time a battle is in sight."

"I'm a soldier, Ptolemy. I have only two priorities in my life, Alexander and the army. I cannot be sent to my tent to read scrolls and letters while my friends and my men risk their very lives. Alexander has to know that. He has to know that I wake each day with nothing but his well-being in my head and my heart."

"I believe you are well suited in that regard then. Just think about what I've told you Hephaistion. Think about the dilemma that Alexander goes through each time he sends you off. Think about your feelings for him, then try and remember that he has the exact same ones for you. Please think about all that before you strike out at him in anger because, in the end, you both want the same things ... each other."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Alexander was in a foul mood, not that there'd been any other moods in his repertoire as of late; foul, fouler, and foulest just about covered them all. He missed Hephaistion, missed his presence, his closeness, his soft voice and smile, and he knew it was his own fault. He'd been the one who'd rebuffed Hephaistion, and if Ptolemy's ranting had any merit, he had also been the one who inadvertently caused his lover pain and worrying confusion. Not to mention the fact that he'd failed to make any attempt to amend the situation, hiding instead behind brief messages sent through Ptolemy or his guards, messages that were of no personal value whatsoever.

He had, of course, seen his lover around the camp, but only in the briefest of moments and the farthest of distances. Hephaistion rarely even took his meals in the dining tent anymore, and Alexander had watched numerous times as either Ptolemy or one of Hephaistion's loyal men delivered food to his tent. He'd considered being the one to bring the sustenance to Hephaistion, but alas, hadn't had the courage to even do that.

Sliding his fingers through his hair, Alexander pulled on the ends of his unruly curls and dropped his head to his desk. He had so many things to do, to plan, to occupy his brain, but his mind was completely centered on Hephaistion. Even the scrolls and papers on his desk reminded him of how horribly he'd reacted to his fears, giving Hephaistion such a menial and mindless task when he knew he'd be furious with the idea. The single-mindedness of his thoughts made him seriously question his sanity, as well. Had he sunk into the same path of obsession that took hold of his mother during times of stress?

The rest of the army had been sent off on some training maneuvers, preparing them for the next stage of the fight that would surely happen soon enough, as well as allowing them to burn off some pent up energy left over from the battle and grieving process. Alexander had remained behind with a few select soldiers, but he'd sent Ptolemy along, despite knowing his oldest friend was the only one that Hephaistion had been allowing to visit him, had become Hephaistion's only support. Maybe having fewer witnesses would stir Alexander to face Hephaistion. Maybe he'd finally find the strength and courage to face the man who held his lonely, aching heart in his own.

Maybe ...

x x x x x

There was nothing Hephaistion enjoyed less than being cooped up in his tent, his mind and body restless and bored. And even though he hadn't been strictly confined to his quarters, the whisperings and stares that plagued the camp when he was out and about were not something he had the patience for. His head and face still ached even though the physician said he was healing well, and his mood was lower than he could ever recall it being in the past.

Ptolemy had been trying hard to help, dropping in on Hephaistion at least once a day to boost his spirits, and as much as he appreciated the kind gesture, Hephaistion wasn't in the mood for it. He wanted everyone to leave him alone, to just go about their own business and forget about him. Unfortunately, the rumors and accusations were even more rampant than usual ... the king's whore acting as Alexander's personal secretary ... duties stripped from him because his beauty had been destroyed ... the king preferred to hide him away than have to look upon him every day.

He'd never allowed the words of others to hurt him before, since he'd always known they were untrue and merely spoken out of spite and jealousy. But this time was different, this time he feared that all he'd thought about his relationship with Alexander had been wrong, he feared he'd become exactly as the others had always taunted him as being; completely expendable when his beauty ran out.

Scanning the pile of correspondence on the makeshift desk that he and Ptolemy had constructed, Hephaistion ran his hand through his long locks and dropped his head to his chest. He needed to stop feeling sorry for himself and just do what he'd been ordered to do. He wasn't a man prone to voicing his objections or one to unduly ruffle anyone's feathers, but he strongly believed that Alexander was making a mistake, a grave error, in trying to hide him away. He'd wracked his brain day and night, trying to understand what Alexander's behavior truly meant, and despite having the utmost trust in Ptolemy, Hephaistion still did not believe Alexander was not avoiding him because of the injury to his face. The expression on Alexander's face when he looked at him for the first time after the battle, still sat heavy in his heart, and as far as Hephaistion was concerned, that spoke for itself.

Alexander had looked at him with unmistakable disgust, a look that Hephaistion had only seen on Alexander's face when something truly repulsive crossed his sight. Hephaistion had seen no fear or worry in that look, only pure and unadulterated displeasure, and he wasn't sure if he could ever strike that image from his mind.

He'd found himself involuntarily touching the wounds beneath his bandage every time Alexander came into his mind, and that was a great deal of the time. Ptolemy had threatened to tie his hands behind his back if he didn't stop picking at the fraying cloth, had told him to go talk to Alexander, to unearth and dispel all the pain and upset that was still rocking his sleep and making him so restless.

But now even Ptolemy wasn't there for Hephaistion to lean on, not that they spent much of their time talking about the situation since Hephaistion preferred to stay away from the topic, choosing to contain his sadness and fear within himself. Nonetheless, Ptolemy centered Hephaistion in a way that he really needed. He made Hephaistion stop wallowing in pity and gave him something else to think about during the times his friend visited. He missed him very much.

With an enormous sigh that expelled all the breath in his body, Hephaistion lifted his head again. He was determined to stop thinking about Alexander and how lonely he felt without him, and simply concentrate on the job he'd been given. No matter how tedious or meaningless he considered the task, it was his duty to see that it was done, and if he concentrated hard enough, he was sure Alexander would be swept completely from his mind ... maybe ...

x x x x x

"How many more nights do you intend on sitting in the dark, my King?"

Alexander nearly jumped out of his skin when Hephaistion's voice broke the silence of the night, the steely darkness seeming not quite as black as only moments before. He sucked in his breath, one shining moment of irrational clarity making him think perhaps if he didn't speak, Hephaistion wouldn't know he was there at all.

"If you consider me so hideous that you can only grace me with your presence when you cannot see me, why do you venture out to see me at all, Alexander?"

"What by the gods are you talking about, Hephaistion? And how did you even know I was here?" Alexander remained huddled against the wall of the tent, the one leg he had tucked beneath him earlier, becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Despite the discomfort, he refused to move, unsure whether Hephaistion was upset with him for sneaking into his tent without his knowledge or just for being there at all.

"I've known for many nights. You're not nearly as artful as you believe yourself to be."

Alexander scratched his head, the leg beneath him tingling and aching as he struggled to remain still. "Then why did you not say something before tonight?"

Hephaistion sighed loudly, rising up on one elbow and peering into the darkness. "I assumed you would come to your senses and admit what you'd been doing. Obviously, I neglected to take your stubborn and childish nature into account."

"Stubborn and childish?" Alexander could remain sitting no longer, pitching forward into Hephaistion's cot as he struggled to his feet. He felt a hand close over his as he gripped the blankets, the warmth of the fingers sending a jolt of sweet familiarity up and down his spine. His mind told him to pull away, to retreat and return to his tent where the fear of explanation could settle back into the air-tight box where he preferred to keep it. He wasn't ready to have a conversation defining his actions yet, and he certainly wasn't ready to confess his fears to Hephaistion.

His efforts to pull away proved futile when Hephaistion's hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled him closer to the bed. His lover's voice was like a beacon in the dark, the soft gentleness warming his entire body, as well as his heart and soul.

"Please tell me, Alexander," Hephaistion said softly, fingers stroking lightly over Alexander's quivering wrist. "Have I truly become nothing more than a beautiful memory in your heart?"

Alexander's breath hitched in his throat, Hephaistion's words sending shivers of a different sort throughout his body, chilling the blood in his veins. "What? How can you ... why would you ... I don't understand, Phai ..."

"No, Alexander. It is I who does not understand. I do not understand why you have stripped me of all the duties that I strongly believed I had earned, why you have repeatedly scurried around in the dark without a word to me, and why you have shunned and ignored me since I was injured. Ptolemy told me you were struggling with feelings of guilt and fear, but those things are not what I see when I consider your actions. All I see is a man who I've shared my entire life with, who I love with all the breath in my body, who I would protect with my very life ... all I see is that man taking away everything that I cherish and hold precious ... including, and most importantly, himself."

Alexander reached out into the darkness, following the sound of Hephaistion's raspy breaths until he was close enough to enclose him in his arms. "Oh, my dear, Hephaistion ... my beloved Phai. I've not intended to take any of that away from you, and most especially, I have not ejected you from my heart. You are still the only one who resides there, and I assure you that is where you shall always remain."

Hephaistion slid his arms around Alexander's waist, his fingers moving against his beloved's ribs and clutching at his back. "You've not been eating properly," he said, nuzzling his head into the crook of Alexander's neck. "I can feel that you've lost weight since we were last together."

"I'm sorry, Phai." Alexander loosened his grip on Hephaistion, sliding his hands over the soft skin and up into his hair. His lips moved to find the warmth of Hephaistion's mouth, his beloved's hot breath stirring something deep inside him as he pressed against the moist heat. He twined his fingers in the long locks, the smell and feel of Hephaisition clearing all his senses and settling a comforting peace over his body.

Hephaistion's lips moved against Alexander's, their breaths mingling and mixing as it had always been, as it always should be. He pulled away gently, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Alexander's mouth. "Sorry for not eating?"

"No." Alexander struggled to keep his breath steady and even as his hands moved over Hephaistion's skull, feeling the edges of the bandage that still wrapped around his head. "Has the doctor not allowed you to remove this yet?" he asked, voice peppered with worry and confusion. "Are your wounds not healing as they should, Phai?"

"They're healing fine, Alexander," Hephaistion assured, pulling back and stroking Alexander's face. He could feel the worry etched in Alexander's face, his forehead wrinkled, his mouth and jaw tight with concern. "I've seen no sense in removing the bandages when my face has clearly become something that no one wishes to look upon."

Alexander's sudden movement startled Hephaisition, his beloved quickly moving away, taking with him all the warmth and comfort Hephaistion had been seeking for so long. "Alexander ..." His words were cut off by the brightness of a torch being lit directly beside his bed. "What are you ..."

"May I remove the bandage, Phai?" Alexander was back at Hephaistion's side immediately, the torch settled in a stand beside the cot. "Would you allow me to look upon you?"

Hephaistion turned his head away from the light, away from Alexander's curious face, away from the eyes he'd been yearning to have look upon him. "No. I don't think ... I ... I believe it would be best if you left, Alexander. I don't think now is the time."

"I don't find you hideous, Phai. That could not be further from the truth."

"Then what has this been all about, Alexander? Why have you removed me from your life?"

"I've done no such thing." Alexander's voice was raw and filled with suffering, one hand moving up to nervously thread through his hair. "But what I have done is given in to the very emotions that have caused me distress for so long, emotions I've been too embarrassed to share with you, feelings that have haunted me day and night for months."

"What feelings, Alexander?" Hephaistion asked, shuddering slightly with the intensity of his lover's stare. He felt overly self-conscious and uncomfortable, both sensations he was unaccustomed to feeling when he was with Alexander. "What feelings could possibly make you so uneasy that you chose to seal them up inside you, rather than sharing than with me when we've shared everything our whole lives?"

"You could have been killed, Phai." Alexander's eyes moved from the worry of Hephaistion's face, dipping low, following his fingertips as they gently moved over Hephaistion's firm chest. "I could have sent you to your very death."

"What are you ... I wasn't killed, Alexander. I'm alive and confused ... sent me to my death? Is that why you removed me from my duties?"

Alexander's eyes closed, his body suddenly trembling with trepidation. All his disturbing dreams and fears moving forefront in his mind, again. He gave his head a shake, hoping to relieve the pressure in his brain. He shouldn't have come, shouldn't have allowed himself to be caught. He thought his mind had settled around his decision, but being there with Hephaistion, had just brought everything back; all the images and horrors ...

"Alexander?" When Hephaistion's voice finally broke through his thoughts, his beloved's fingers tracking the contours of his face, he flinched back.

"I'm sorry, Phai."

"I love you, Alexander, and I do not believe you sent me to my death, nor do I believe you had any hand in my injury. I'm alive and here, and I love you."

"But a blow to the face ... it could have been so much worse ... you could have ..."

Hephaistion's mouth crushed Alexander's, teeth nipping at the soft lips, tongue poking out to lick along the crease. Hands wrapped around the king's head, pulling him closer, the mouth slanting and pressing desperately, leaving no room for Alexander's worries and fears. Bodies shifted and turned towards one another, hands and mouths exploring, feeling, tasting, as hearts beat rapidly as one.

Alexander pulled back slightly, lungs fighting to suck in depleted air as he tipped his forehead to Hephaistion's. "I've missed you," he whispered through parched and quivering lips. "I've missed you more than I believed possible."

"And I, you," Hephaistion whispered back, heart soaring beyond any place it had gone before.

"Make love to me, Hephaistion. I need to know you're still mine. I need to feel the strength of your body as we move as one. I need you ..."

Hephaistion pressed a gentle kiss to Alexander's nose, hands moving up to fist in his hair. "I'll always be yours, my King. Always and forever, just as we've always said."

Alexander tilted his head, lips pressing roughly to Hephaistion's, tongue forcing inside as the lust in loins ran rampant. He tugged gently on Hephaistion's hair, one hand slipping up to the cloth around his beloved's head, fingers playing along the frayed edges. The strength of his passion was strong, almost overpowering, but he had to see, had to know what lay beneath the bandage.

"Please let me see you." Hephaistion pulled back with a groan, but Alexander's hands kept him close, kept him from fleeing the situation that suddenly struck fear in his heart.

"If you aren't concerned with how I look, then why must you see me now? Will it not just make you wary of me, again?"

Alexander shifted on the bed, pulling at his chiton, trying to give his lower half a little more room. "Not wary. I was never wary, Phai. I just ..."

"Felt guilty," Hephaistion said, finishing Alexander's sentence, voice strong and demanding. "You felt guilty for allowing me to do the job for which I have been trained all my life. You felt guilty for being the king who took his men into battle and let them be injured."

"No ..."

"Yes, Alexander! And please allow me to tell you what your guilt is to me. May I explain to you, my love, that your guilt leaves scars on the both of us, scars that are far worse than any my body could be subjected to. Unfounded guilt will destroy you, Alexander ... will destroy us both."

Alexander dipped his head, the emotions he'd been shoving aside for days finally overwhelming his senses and causing him to shake with despair. "I've had dreams, Phai. Terrible, awful dreams. Dreams of you being slaughtered in front of my eyes. Dreams of me standing by as you're brutally tortured and then killed. I've been so afraid that those dreams would come true, so afraid you'd be taken from me ..."

Hephaistion gathered his beloved into his arms, holding him so tight it was difficult for either one of them to breath. "I'm here, Alexander, and I have no intention of leaving you ... ever. My body, heart and soul are yours, but you mustn't shut me out anymore, and you must let me be the man that I am destined to be."

Alexander nuzzled his nose into the nape of Hephaistion's neck, nodding his head and saying a silent prayer of thanks. Hephaistion was right. All that mattered was that they were together, that they were in each other's arms, and their hearts and souls were entwined. "I'm sorry," he whispered, breathing in the scent of forgiveness, warmth and love.

After several minutes of desperate holding and gentle stroking, Hephaistion pulled away, untangling his body from Alexander's. He dipped his head for a moment then looked up into Alexander's confused eyes. His smile was sweet, but with just a hint of sadness curling the edges as he moved his hands to the bandage on his head.

Alexander bit his lip to keep from interrupting the silence that he sensed his beloved needed. He didn't want to force Hephaistion to remove the dressing, didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable, but at the same time he longed to see the whole of his face. He could tell Hephaistion was trying hard to hide a mask of agony, trying hard, but not quite managing the task in the eyes of someone that knew him so well.

As he unwound the bandage, his arm lengthening as the cloth multiplied in his hand, Hephaistion concentrated on shadowing his fluttering nerves beneath a facade of indifference. What would Alexander think of the wounds that had only partially healed beneath the dressing? Hephaistion could not help fearing that the truth would finally come to pass when the ravages of his face were revealed.

When the unraveling had ended, Hephaistion involuntarily dipped his head, only to have a warm hand slide under his chin and bring him back up to meet Alexander's eyes. His beloved smiled gently, moving closer, his other warm hand moving to stroke Hephaistion's right cheekbone.

"Alex ..." Hephaistion's words were cut short by the pressing of a gentle kiss to the wound above his eyebrow. His heart flip-flopped in his chest, his breath hitching in his throat and becoming labored with nervousness. "You don't have to ..."

"You're beautiful, Hephaistion. There is no one in this land, or any other, that can ever take your place in my heart or make my heart race as you do." Alexander's lips remained on Hephaistion's skin, moving slowly down the left side of his face from eyebrow to cheek, finally settling a kiss on the puckered gash beneath his eye. "I will never take you for granted nor question your abilities. Please forgive my insensitivity, and never allow me to push you away, again."

Alexander kissed each of Hephaistion's injuries twice, slowly, methodically, taking care to be sure his beloved understood that the changes to his appearance made no difference in the love they shared. As a single tear escaped Hephaistion's left eye, Alexander tasted the saltiness on his tongue while Hephaistion stifled a whimper. "Kiss me, Phai. Show me you forgive me and need me."

Hephaistion dragged Alexander beneath him, kissing him deeply and letting go of all his fear and nervousness of the past week. The man under him grasped his shoulders, winding one leg around Hephaistion's thigh as their mouths and bodies quivered together.

Alexander still loved him, still wanted and needed him, was still his, and Hephaistion intended on keeping it that way.


End file.
